Lasso the Moon
by historylover
Summary: AU. Loosely inspired by "It's a Wonderful Life."


A/N: OK, I hate what I was writing prior to this one. Part of the reason is work got busy, and I had to put the story on hold. Then I couldn't find a way to continue it. Blah blah blah. So, I'm putting it away. I might try it again.

Of course, maybe that should have been the fate of this one—just put it away until something can come out of it. However, I'm posting it, and I've argued with myself about it. This may have worked better a couple years ago. Or last year, since it does involve angels. But, a half-baked idea crept in my head last week when I was watching one of my favorite movies "It's a Wonderful Life." Again, half-baked. Very talky. But, I hope you like it.

Definitely AU. Also, sorry, Sam fans. There really isn't too much Sam in this one. Sorry. I stared at the completed story, trying to figure out where I could add Sam in. And, I just couldn't figure anything out. So, it's all Dean. But, it's only one long chapter.

Disclaimer: Don't own it. And inspired by "It's a Wonderful Life." I own the DVD. Does that count?

**Lasso the Moon**

Dean sat in the bar, trying to drink enough to let him forget everything. At least for a little while. Let him forget the fact that friends were dying by following his directions. Let him forget that Sammy was Lucifer's would-be vessel. Let him forget that Meg is still out there, and she would probably dance on his grave. Let him forget that he had a bull's eye on his forehead for both angels and demons. Just forget. Grow numb. Maybe get together with that sexy blonde who was practically screaming "I want you!" at him.

Problem was that the alcohol wasn't getting him quite numb or forgetful enough.

He glanced over at Sam, who was also brooding in his beer. Sam glanced up and met Dean's eyes. He could read Sam's thoughts in his eyes_—"It's all your fault."_

Dean sighed. He knew it was his fault. Ellen. Jo. Bobby's condition. He had no idea how to lead, and he had to lead. Or else allow himself to be taken over by Michael, which was an if-all-hope-is-lost scenario. Plus, no matter how many times Sam brought up the fact that he killed Lilith and set Lucifer free, Dean silently reminded himself that he started the dominoes falling by breaking and torturing people in Hell.

He looked over at the sexy blonde, but she was turned away from him, chatting with her friends.

"Hey, Dean," he turned to Sam, who continued. "I'm gonna go. Are you gonna be much longer?"

"Just a few more minutes. I'll see you back in the room." Dean contemplated his whiskey, wondering if it were possible to drown in it, but not wanting to let these feelings out to anyone.

He looked up to find that he was alone. Sam had left. Dean lazily wondered how long he had been staring into his drink.

Even the blonde was gone.

Dean staggered off the bar stool and reached into his pocket to pay for his drinks. The bartender came up to him. "You aren't driving, are you?"

"No. I'm walking."

The man appraised Dean carefully. "Will you be able to get to the motel all right? You've had quite a bit to drink. You don't seem all that drunk, but looks can be deceiving."

Dean tossed money on the counter. "You have no idea."

The bartender picked up the cash and stared more intently at Dean. "Are you all right?"

Dean smiled what he knew was a fake smile. "Of course."

The bartender studied Dean a little more, then nodded and walked off. Dean wasn't sure if he should feel relief or concern. He was relieved that he figured he was successfully fooling people around him, yet he was concerned that he wasn't fooling himself. And he was the dumbest person he knew.

Dean walked out of the bar into the cold winter night. _You get friends who think you know what you're doing killed. _His thoughts swirled faster than he expected it to after a night of hard drinking. _The only reason why you're still around is because you have to clean up the mess you started. Everyone would be better off without me._

He stepped off the curb, only to be jerked back to the sidewalk suddenly as a car sped by him, blaring its horn.

Before Dean could turn and look at who pulled him back, he heard the bartender whisper beside him, "You would have been killed! Are you all right?"

Dean awkwardly jerked his coat out of the bartender's hand and straightened it. "I'm OK."

"You could have been killed. I'm glad I decided to follow you. I just want to make sure you make it all right."

"Don't worry about me." Dean stepped off the curb again, looking both ways, before crossing the street.

His bartender shadow followed him. "Are you all alone? I mean, I can call someone to come and get you. Just stop and talk to me."

Dean stopped. "Look, I appreciate you about pulling me from that car, but I'm fine."

The bartender held his hand out. "I'm Mike."

Dean stared at the outstretched hand. "Mike? As in 'Michael'?" At the other man's slow, confident grin, Dean continued, "I knew that Sam and I would have a better chance of dodging you guys if we were apart. How'd you find me?"

"We still have our feelers out for you. Spies everywhere. Plus, you came into _my _bar."

Dean chuckled as he turned away. "Figures. Well, the answer is still no. It's not my fault if you couldn't take out Lucifer when you had the chance."

Michael walked beside him. "What about you, Dean? You couldn't take out Sam either. I regret that every day. But, it's a mistake I don't plan on making twice."

"I'm not leading you to Sam."

"I'm not asking you to do that."

"I'm not going to give in to you, either."

"See, this is one of the reasons you'll be a perfect vessel. You've already had to make difficult decisions. And, really, do you honestly think everyone would be better if you just walked away? Zach has shown you what the world would be like if you fought by yourself."

Dean stopped and turned around. "I'm not thinking that."

"No, but you are thinking that it'd be better if you weren't around. I hope that a lot of it is due to the fact that you're grieving for the Harvelles and you've had a lot to drink tonight. Of course, this death wish you have is not pleasant. I mean, will you be walking into oncoming traffic when you agree to serve as my vessel?"

Dean resumed his walking. "Go fly into a black hole or something."

"I like you!" Michael said. "But, seriously, Dean… you wish you weren't around? I mean, I knew you had a death wish, and you were pretty suicidal anyways, but you know what Sam would if you killed yourself, right?"

Dean turned back again. "I didn't say anything," he said to nothing.

"No, but you're thinking it," Michael's voice came from right at Dean's side. Dean jumped, and was angry at himself for jumping. Michael continued, "No… you're not suicidal… Dean, do you honestly think everyone would be better off if you didn't exist? If you weren't born?"

"I-I wasn't thinking that."

"Yeah, you were. You're my vessel. I can read your mind."

"Terrific," Dean muttered.

"Fine. You weren't born. You don't exist. I'm going to show you how the world would be if you weren't born. You don't have any IDs, any fake IDs, Cas' handprint isn't on your shoulder because you never went to Hell…"

"Well, first, I've seen this movie many times. It plays every Christmas Eve. Second, I'm hardly George Bailey or Jimmy Stewart. And third, why are you wanting to show me how wonderful my life has been? I might keep resisting you if I've had such a wonderful life. Finally, I'll be better tomorrow. The answer is still no."

"Oh, your life is pretty crappy. The hunting alone would take care of that. Then you have the whole Hell memories. And the fact that you've appointed yourself to be a general, which I can definitely appreciate, since I'm one, but it all guarantees that your life sucks greatly. I'm just wanting you to see that we're really on the same side."

"Yeah, right." Dean continued to the motel. He walked around to his room, only to find he wasn't carrying his keys. He knocked on the door. "Sammy! It's me. I don't seem to have my keys." No one responded, so he pounded harder. "Sam!"

At that, a man threw the door open. Dean could see a woman in a negligee curled on the bed just beyond the guy. "What do you want, pal?" the man asked.

"I'm sorry. I seem to have gotten the wrong room."

With that, the man slammed the door on Dean's face.

"Well, at least I killed the sex drive of the cheating bastard. At least for tonight," Dean muttered at Michael. "All right, Clarence. Lead on. But, if you think I'm going to give you your wings, you've got another think coming."

Michael fell into step with Dean. "If you think that just because you were never born that Lucifer isn't set free. You were the first domino in your world, but, here… well, there were other circumstances." They came around a corner to find just still buildings. No cars on the street, no signs of human activity. No signs of human life. It was strangely silent and eerie.

"Where's Sam?" Dean asked.

"We'll get to him. C'mon. There's nothing to see here. Although you'll be seeing a lot of strange things." At that, Michael grabbed Dean's arm. Dean looked around again. They were standing in front of a bar. "Feel like a drink?"

Dean stared hard at Michael before walking inside the bar. It was a typical dive, although he spotted hunters. A couple of them looked up as he walked in, but they went back to strategizing their next hunts. Dean glanced over at a familiar-looking man sitting at the bar. Dean couldn't see the man's face.

He took a seat at the bar a couple stools away from the man. He still couldn't see his face or the face of the woman's who was talking to him.

Dean turned to Michael. "If a cash register rings, and you tell me an angel got his wings, I'm out of here."

"Understood."

"You two are new here, " a familiar voice interrupted Dean from further talking to Michael. He looked across the bar to see…

"Ellen?" He breathed out.

"Normally, I don't allow new people in my bar. What are you doing here?" She asked.

"We're hunting ghosts in the area," Michael jumped in before Dean could say anything.

She glanced at him, then turned her steely gaze back to Dean. "We don't need any more ghost hunters," she said coldly. "But, do you want something or not?" She asked.

"Y-yeah. I'll have a beer."

She nodded at Michael. "And you?"

"Scotch. Double. Neat."

She nodded, then left.

Dean turned to Michael. "Ellen's alive."

"Yeah."

"She would still be alive if it weren't for me."

Michael faced forward. "The Ellen that you knew went out as a warrior, letting her general live to fight another day. Not leaving her daughter to die alone. This Ellen is not the same woman. Most of the hunters who leave the Roadhouse are never heard from again. She's had so much personal tragedy."

Dean watched her fill drinks. "Jo?"

"Jo was killed when she ran off trying to hunt down H.H.H. Holmes. At least, that's the prevailing theory. Jo's body was never found. Because you and Sam weren't around to save her."

Dean was silent for a moment while taking a look around the bar. "Where's Sam?" He asked again.

"We'll get to Sam. It's not time yet."

Just then, Ellen brought them their drinks. As she put them on the counter in front of Dean and Michael, she looked past Dean and yelled, "Hey! Not in my bar!"

As she left, Dean turned to see what was going on, only to look at his father.

"Dad?"

John didn't hear Dean, but Dean felt John appraise him, like he always did. This time felt weird. Although he knew that John was looking at a stranger, Dean had the strangest feeling that he was also looking at him like he was an enemy.

Finally, John turned away. Out of the corner of Dean's eye, he could see Ellen escort two hunters out at the point of a rifle.

"You had to figure that he was alive, right?" Michael said over Dean's shoulder. "After all, he didn't make a deal to save you, right?"

Dean ignored him and stood up. He walked slowly to John. "Are-are you John Winchester?"

John glanced up from his maps. "So what if I am? Do I know you?"

"I'm a friend of Bobby Singer's."

At that, John chuckled dryly. "You're a friend of Bobby's, huh? So, you're probably the same kind of spineless jellyfish, cowarding in a demon-proof panic room while the rest of the world is going to Hell, right? Go back to your ghost hunting, little boy. You're not ready for the big leagues yet."

"Some of these hunters are worse than those damn Crotes," Ellen said as she came back. She eyed Dean coldly before turning her attention to John's maps. "What are you thinking?"

"There are signs that Lucifer is making his way northward. Catch up with him. Blow him away."

"With what?" Dean asked before he could stop himself. In spite of John and Ellen glaring at him, he continued, "I found out the Colt won't work…"

"How does a measly ghost hunter know about the Colt?" John asked.

Dean took a step back from the venom in John's voice and went on, "The Colt kills demons, right? Lucifer isn't a demon. He's a fallen angel. I've been told only angels can kill other angels. Unless you get a hold of an angel's sword or something." He glanced over at Michael who took a drink of his scotch.

John stared at him hatred in his eyes. "Go back to chasing ghosts around. Leave the apocalypse to big leaguers."

"Finish your drinks and leave my bar," Ellen spat out.

"Let's go, Dean," Michael said behind him. He tossed money on the bar and continued, "I wish you long life and a successful ending of this war."

Dean followed him out of the bar. He could feel Michael looking at him as they walked in silence. Finally, Dean softly repeated, "What about Sam?"

"Soon. I bet you're wondering what that was all about."

"Dad's alive… I bet he's a leader, a general in the war."

"There are a couple different factions fighting in this war. There are those who have blinders on who are really no better than the Croatoans they're fighting. Just after death and destruction. Only wanting to kill all the 'damn demons,' and, obviously, trying to kill Lucifer. Yes, your father is among those. So, any particularities you witness, which I imagine you saw a lot, was mostly due to the fact that you weren't around."

Dean shrugged. "He was more talkative than I remember him ever being."

Michael chuckled. "You have no idea how much you kept your father grounded and sane. You thought he was hard and cold? He never had anything that grounded him. And, after your mother died, he kind of went, well, more insane than you knew. He didn't have anyone who reminded him of the love of his life. He had Sam. For a while. But, Dean, you reflect your mother so much. You don't even realize how much your dad saw her in you."

Dean couldn't think of anything to say. "Did Mom die…" he began, haltingly.

"When Sam was six months old? Yes. Pinned to the ceiling, on fire, by Azazel."

"How?" Dean whispered.

"Your going back in time didn't affect anything. It couldn't. We were just wanting to you to know the events that led up to everything that happened."

Dean continued walking blindly. He had no idea which thoughts he should settle on. As they turned a corner, they came face to face with a building marked "Croatoan."

"This is this year, right? 2010?" Dean looked around, surveying for people infected with the virus.

"Yeah. However, this war has been raging for several years now. Obviously, Lucifer walks the earth. My brother angels are fighting a losing war."

Dean turned and stared at the angel. "I don't exist, right? No IDs? No fake IDs? No awesome car, right?"

"Right."

"So, I probably never went to Hell either, right?"

"You got it."

"So how can this happen? I never broke the first seal, which set all of this off, right? But, somehow, everything has escalated."

Michael sighed. He picked up a rock and tossed it in his hands. "You know, if you break a window in a building with that sign, a wish will come true."

"The first seal had to have been broken, right?"

Michael threw the rock. It just missed a small window in the building, bouncing off the brick wall. He sighed. "Your father broke it."

"He went to Hell?"

"No. Different prophecy. Different timeline. John himself was the first seal. When he broke… well, things have escalated a lot in 27 years, haven't they?"

"So, does this thing have any bearing on the real world?"

"How do you know this isn't the real world?"

Dean kicked a rock. "So, what am I supposed to take away from all of this? Your friend, Zach, already shown me his version of the future."

"Zach is a little zealous. He's going about this the wrong way. We're going to make a couple of other stops. Maybe you'll figure out what to take away from this." Michael glanced around at shadows. "OK, Dean, we're going to have to go."

Dean looked around, noticing infected people coming from the shadows. He quickly picked up the rock he was kicking. He threw it as hard as he could. He could hear the glass break in the window he was aiming at.

"We have to go!" Michael yelled as he grabbed Dean's arm as the infected people started swarming around them.

Dean opened his eyes. They were standing in Bobby's junkyard. Yet, it felt different. "Why are we here?"

"What did you wish for?"

"If I tell you, it might not come true," Dean muttered to himself and started walking through the junkers to Bobby's door.

Dean walked up to Bobby's house. As Michael joined him and Dean lifted his hand to knock on the door, a rifle barrel came lunging out of a hole in the door and into Dean's face.

"Who are you?" Bobby's voice whispered through the door. "What do you want?"

Dean ignored Michael's look. "Bobby, it's me, Dean. Um… I spoke to John Winchester." He wasn't sure why he included John, but it was out.

The rifle cocked. "I don't know no Dean. And I sure as Hell don't want anything to do with John Winchester."

Michael stepped forward. "Bobby, it's Michael. It's all right. Dean is with me."

The rifle pointed to Michael. "How do I know it's you? You don't look the same."

"I changed vessels. Had to." The rifle disappeared, and Dean stared at Michael, who shrugged. "They know me around here. These are our friends. They're just paranoid. They're scared. Tired of fighting, so they're supporting angels. But, their world is crashing around them." At that, the door opened.

Dean followed Michael into the house. It was different than he remembered, and he figured out why. Same reason the junkyard felt different. Both the junkyard and the house were messier than Dean remembered, and the mess was laid out as a maze. As Michael led Dean down a winding hall that he didn't remember, he realized that most of the house had been turned into on big panic room. The walls were all iron, devil's traps were placed at various intervals on the floor and the ceiling. Dean bet that if he would brush the walls, they would be salty.

He turned to Bobby, who was still training the rifle on him, and was pleased to see Bobby standing, almost as tall as him. Dean had forgotten how tall Bobby was. Which made sense. Bobby would never be sitting in a wheelchair, because, obviously, he didn't injure himself trying to save Dean's sorry butt.

"Bobby…" Dean began, unsure what to say next.

"Just because I let you in doesn't mean you can call me by that name. I'm 'Mr. Singer' to you."

"Yes, sir."

Bobby glared at Dean again, but, apparently deciding that Dean wasn't a threat, he lowered the rifle and walked over to join some people, who started discussing fronts in the war. Dean stood by Michael, who was listening at all the conversations. "What exactly is going on here?"

Michael gestured to the assembly. "Some of these are hunters. Others are angels still on our side. Most of my brothers have fallen, either in battle or to Lucifer. This is all we have now. We're losing. Not only are we fighting the forces of Lucifer, but we're also fighting your father's hunting ilk. By the way, mentioning John? Not the smartest thing you've ever done, Dean."

"Yeah, I know. I knew it was a mistake as soon as I said it." Dean looked around. "Where's Cas?"

"Castiel?" Michael sighed. "I'm sorry. I know he's important to you, but he's one of the fallen."

Dean felt a stab of pain. "Oh." He glanced around again. "So… what is going on here?"

"Planning the next defense to a battle that's coming up. Next week, more than half of these people and angels will be dead."

"Why can't you come to some sort of compromise with the other hunters and work together? You're after the same goal, right? To defeat Lucifer?"

"Theoretically, that would be fine. However, it's not that simple."

"Why not?"

Michael sighed. "I'm one of the leaders of this group, obviously. The angels look up to me, since, well, I'm me. I dropped Lucifer into Hell. But, I also failed to kill him, so the humans don't really listen to me. It would be nice if there was a leader who could join both groups together, right? Someone who the angels can look up to, yet who can unite the humans. Someone who could kill Lucifer."

"Someone like you? I don't want to be your condom. I've seen how you archangels treat them."

"It's not as bad as you think."

"Yeah, right." Dean watched the people for a while. Occasionally, he would meet Bobby's eye. Bobby glared at him. Finally, he turned back to Michael. "So, where is Sam? Is he alive?"

Michael sighed again. "You're not going to like it too much…"

"Probably not."

"OK, I'll take you to him. Just a second." Michael stepped forward to the first group. Dean heard him whispering to the others, but, other than "Detroit," he couldn't make out anything. He walked back to Dean. "OK, let's get out of here." He nodded to Bobby. "As always, thanks for your hospitality."

Bobby grunted something that Dean couldn't make out.

Michael led Dean out through the maze of house and out the door. Once outside, Michael put his hand on the same shoulder where Cas would have grabbed it to drag him out of Hell. "There's something you need to understand about Sam…"

"He said 'yes,' didn't he?"

Michael looked around. "Not exactly. It's not what you're thinking. We're heading for Detroit now. Are you ready for this?"

"If I said I wasn't that wouldn't stop you, would it?" Dean asked.

"Probably not." Michael started walking through the path with the cars again, leaving Dean no choice but to follow him.

Dean looked down, trying to keep what he was thinking hidden from Michael. He looked up to see a sign, proclaiming they were in Detroit.

It was horrible. The skyline was on fire. From what Dean could see, almost every building was either burning or being looted. There were people screaming and crying, in torment. Some were fighting with people with the Croatoan virus with everything they had, although Dean knew it was a losing battle. Others were just giving up. Demon-possessed people were herding everyone around, while other possessed people were torturing innocent people.

"Sad, isn't it?" Michael asked in Dean's ear. "See, half of the people don't know what's really going on here. While the other half is so battle-weary that they're about ready to give up. Let Lucifer have everything."

"Yeah, in Zach's little mind trip, the future me said you angels gave up."

"I don't have a vessel, so I can't fight very effectively. Plus, angels are falling all around us. In more ways than one."

"What about Sam?"

"Well, there's something you need to know. See, you think your dad was rough? Well, he was. It's a testimony to you that you're able to go on, which is one of the reasons why you're a perfect vessel. But, in this universe? John was worse. He didn't have you to ground him. To be there to give him ideas and feedback. To be the mediator between him and Sam. Plus, as I said, you resemble your mother, probably more than you realize. In your universe, you kept your dad in check in your own way. Plus, you were there for Sam. Helped him through his childhood. Although you didn't have anyone to turn to when times got bad for you, Sam always did. Without you around, things went bad faster than when you were around."

"Yeah, I was always caught between two stubborn men constantly fighting and arguing. Why would that be any different if I weren't around? Sam would have gotten good grades and left for Stanford."

"Sam never went to Stanford. John dragged him from town to town, hunting as soon as he was old enough to hold a gun. He never stayed in a school long enough to even get a report card. When he was 15, he ran away from home. Got caught in with a bad crowd. Got into drugs. By the way, Jessica's dead. Her fiancé got the virus and killed her and her unborn child. Nice, huh?"

Dean stepped forward and looked around. "Sam said yes because I'm not around?"

"You didn't have anything to do with it. Sam was subjected to horrors that you can't even imagine. Even before he ran away from home. He turned to drugs after he was possessed a couple times. Then he had to deal with Azazel's _Survivor_ camp. Although John broke the first seal by killing Azazel, Sam still broke the last seal by killing Lilith. It was an accident, though. After that, he overdosed on drugs. Lucifer just claimed his vessel, without any ado."

Dean backed away from Michael. "You're lying!"

"I wish." Michael looked at something over Dean's shoulder and suddenly shoved him toward an alley. As Dean turned to push back, Michael grabbed him by the arm and forced him into the narrow passage. He slammed Dean against a building and growled, "Keep quiet."

Dean suddenly felt no desire to say anything. Both he and the angel looked out into the street to see John and his group come into view. "It's going down here?" Dean whispered.

"Everyone assumes Armageddon will be somewhere in the Middle East. Nope. Everything is coming out here in Detroit." Michael shook his head. "We were trying to avoid this."

"I'm wanting to avoid it, too."

Michael looked back at Dean. "Is that what you wished when you threw that rock? Well, you can't avoid it, even if you don't exist. It's here, now. And you're here now. And we need a leader who can unite people and angels. Hopefully avoid Lucifer getting to his vessel. As you said before, only an angel can kill another angel. There's only one way you can take out Lucifer."

From another angle, Bobby and his group came into view. Both groups pointed their guns at each other.

"You guys aren't each other's enemy!" Dean yelled out. "Look around you!"

"They're not going to listen to you, Dean. You don't matter here." Just then, a white-clad Sam strolled through the gauntlet, flanked by Cas and another angel. Dean felt his stomach drop to the ground. Beside him, Michael muttered, "Lucifer thrives on chaos. And we're just feeding him."

"Is Sam aware what he's doing?"

"Probably." Michael shook his head. "I guess I don't know, considering Sam died before Lucifer took over. Vessels tend to be somewhat aware of what's happening to them. You know, a lot of times, angels can incorporate memories and personalities of their vessels. I don't know if that's what happening here."

"Why is Cas with him?"

"I told you that your friend, Castiel, was among the fallen. I didn't tell you what kind of fallen. He remained a good soldier. When Uriel asked him to join up with them, he did. You weren't around to cause him to have any feelings for humans. Or to question authority. Which is good in our universe. Castiel has loyalty. Here, his only allegiance now is to Lucifer."

As the fallen angels confidential strolled between the opposing sides, John rushed out with the Colt. As he moved, Castiel casually drew out his sword and thrust it into the man. Sam—Lucifer—smirked as the angel drew the sword out, sheathed it, and continued on his way as John fell dead.

The others started advancing. Suddenly demons and angels appeared to join in the battle. The other angel who was flanking Sam—Lucifer was killed by an angel on Bobby's side.

Dean watched in horror as bodies piled round the streets. He saw Bobby's throat slit by a demon. That was worse than seeing John get killed.

The battle—if Dean could even call it that—as over as soon as it started. A few demons and evil angels were killed, but it was clear who the winning side was.

The only sound was the crackling of fires around. Sam—Lucifer—looked up to see Michael and Dean in the alley. His smirk turned into an evil grin.

"Dean, you know most of the things you've seen here isn't exactly real," Michael whispered to him.

"I figured that when I saw Ellen and Dad alive."

"But this battle will happen. In one way or another in your reality. And it's going to end bloody. And, you—and only you—can keep this from happening. You'll end up alone, but, if you agree to be my vessel, you can unite hunters and angels. You won't be defenseless. And maybe, we'll have a chance to end this war. To kill Lucifer."

"Hi, big brother," Lucifer strolled up, with Castiel as his faithful shadow. Lucifer grinned as he looked at the massacre behind him. Then he eyed Dean. "Looks like you found your real vessel, Michael. A little late, right?"

Michael glanced at Dean but didn't answer.

Lucifer laughed. "Looks like I won this time. I guess you should have killed me while you had the chance." He looked over at Dean again. "I know you."

At that, Castiel drew his sword on Dean, but Lucifer waved it down. "He's not that important. He's not the vessel." Lucifer turned back to Michael. "He might be your true vessel, but, since he hasn't given in, you can't do anything. You're weak, helpless, big brother. Worthless. Just like this pathetic human. We weren't meant to bow down to humans. They were meant to bow down to us."

"That's blasphemy," Michael said softly. "Our Father hated your thoughts about humanity millennia ago, just like He hates them now."

Lucifer frowned. "You stink of humanity," he sneered before running Michael through with his sword.

Dean stiffened as Michael's body fell to the ground. As he stiffened, Castiel appeared behind him, drawing his sword against Dean's throat.

"I won!" Lucifer exclaimed, disbelief in his voice mingled in with the triumph. He turned back to Dean. "One more pathetic soul to go."

Dean glared at him. "You think you've won? You haven't won anything."

"I know you. In another world, in another life. Somehow. But, I know you. You're attached to this vessel, aren't you. Bound somehow. You don't belong here, but I know you." He leaned forward toward Dean. "Since you're attached to this vessel, somehow, I should let you know that his soul is in Hell. Suffering. Screaming."

Sirens faintly started going off. "Take a good look at me," Dean whispered. "I'm going to kill you." The sirens grew louder as Lucifer frowned deeper. "Mark my words, this 'pathetic human' will find a way to kill you. Even if I have to become Michael's vessel."

There wasn't a flicker of fear in Lucifer's eyes. "Fulfill your destiny? Well, it's too late. Your hero is dead."

"Then it'll be just me, then."

Lucifer smirked. "You just keep telling yourself that." He nodded at Castiel.

As the sirens sounded all around Dean, he could feel a tightening in his chest with sharp pains. His head hurt. Cas backed away, his sword red with blood.

Dean wasn't sure whose blood it was. Dean's pains didn't feel like he had been stabbed with that sword or cut by it.

He felt the back of his head and drew away a bloody hand. He looked at Lucifer and Castiel as they started fading out into white and into nothingness.

* * *

Dean's entire body hurt. He could feel the presences of people or beings over him, but he wasn't sure how many people were there.

"Dean?" Sam's voice rang out through the nothingness.

The world came back, although not as Dean would have liked it. Instead, he found himself in a familiar-looking hospital room.

"Dean?" Sam asked again. Dean turned his head, although the light hurt his eyes.

"What happened?" He slurred out his words.

"You were hit by a car the other day coming out of that bar. A drunk driver. You broke a couple ribs and hit your head on the curb." Sam said.

"What?"

"You were dreaming something while you were unconscious. Do you remember anything about your dream?"

At that, Cas came into the room and handed Sam a cup of coffee. "You are awake." The angel said. He looked at Dean more closely. "You're different."

Dean looked at Sam. "What do you mean?"

Cas stared at Dean closer, and Dean wanted to hide from the angel's scrutiny. "I see… something. You are different."

Sam jumped up. "Are you Michael?" he whispered frantically.

"No," Dean said. His head hurt.

"You kept saying 'Michael' while you were out. Cas, he didn't give in to Michael, did he?"

"No," Cas said. "He's still him. But, you met Michael. You talked to him. He's going to start circling you, pressuring you to give in to him."

"He can't do anything worse than he already did," Dean said.

"Yes, he can."

Dean looked up at Sam. "It doesn't matter. This war, it would go on without me. I found out I'm not all that important…"

"Yeah you are," Sam said. "We'll say no to our angels together. We'll back each other up."

"You don't understand, Sammy. I found out I'm not all that important. But, together, all of us, we'll defeat the devil. And that's what I learned."

End.

A/N: Congratulations to Supernatural for winning the People's Choice Award for Favorite Sci-Fi/Fantasy Series! Awesome!

Also, as always, I hate my writing. But, I hope you like this story. Or at least tolerate it. And I got this title from "It's a Wonderful Life."


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